


Smile of the grim

by Shi_no_tamashii



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M, Grief, Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 23:52:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11218842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_no_tamashii/pseuds/Shi_no_tamashii
Summary: “How can you still smile?” He questioned. The lightbulb exploded as if answering with what could easily be perceived as “Not”. He stared at the shards of glass angrily. He turned his gaze towards the rest of the lights in a brisk enraged manner. All at once, the lightbulbs exploded. He was cast in darkness.Undertaker-centeredAlso on FF.net





	Smile of the grim

Was it the moonlight illuminating a reflection upon the window in a haunted sort of way or were it the lanterns casting dark shadows? He couldn’t tell. All he knew was that the eyes staring back at him were seeing so much more than he ever could. The blood dripping in his left eye was left unnoticed, instead it kept its vacant and ancient gaze fixated on the figure staring back at him.

“Such an alluring expression of morbid joy.” The tall looming figure in the window formed the words along with him, but he paid it no heed. It was mocking him. As expected, the figure didn’t answer. There was an enticing smile casting unnecessary shadows on the otherwise pale skin of both the figure in the window and life form of the man who was believed to be more psychotic than sane. Dull. He thought. You live when you laugh, shouldn’t one laugh as much as possible? The intriguing sight of the too happy smile in comparison to the dulled eyes of a reflection he did not recognize was what made him look down at his hands. He held them up and spread his fingers, he inspecting them attentively. They were painted in an interesting shade of red. He squinted down in an attempt to get a better look but regardless of what he did, the world around him stayed a blurry mess. Why was it so gloomy anyway? He turned away from the figure in the window who shared an equally confused expression. A quick look around -albeit barely being able to see past the haziness- showed him he was in the realm where humans walked the ground.

It wasn’t the mere sight of the familiar London buildings, it was the sound of horses in the distance what made him want to return home. But he had no home. Did he?  
The mundane feeling of a certain object somewhere lost yet close at hand in another realm made him feel less anxious. Was he anxious? He couldn’t quite tell. He turned back to the window, seeing past the figure and into the store. Shoes. He looked down again. His feet were bloody too, but at least he wore shoes. His eyes flickered back up where he saw the figure still staring at him.

“What happened to you?” He heard himself ask. He got closer until his toes bumped against the wall of the building. His nose virtually touching the glass.

“You have won. Yet your eyes are leaking.” A familiar gesture, soon to be an uncharacteristic move, made his hand shoot through his hair, bringing it forward to cover his face. He felt the blood in his hair too. Through silver locks, he could still see the figure. Then he saw it.

“You lost.” He noted, turning away.

“I lost.” He added as a whisper left to cascade through the empty street.

The figure in the window retreated along with the dark clad person who stumbled his way through a dimly lit street. The vague thought of his lost glasses danced through his head, but it was gone as soon as it had come to mind.

His thoughts started wandering, venturing further into the past where he was met with the realization of what had happened. He kept walking as images of hours ago hit him. He looked up. Instead of a dark ashen sky, he saw a ceiling. He closed his eyes briefly before daring to open them again. He looked to his right and the lanterns morphed into one long wall. He stared at the wall splattered in red. It was a horrific masterpiece. He looked down and his cheek hit the top of someone’s head lightly. He blinked and frowned. When had he stopped walking? He felt a cold, heavy weight in his hand and lifted it slowly. It was another hand. He felt empty, a desolate feeling made him appear as neutral as one could ever be, but his emotions were struggling to find solid understanding. He felt himself holding onto the edge of an abyss, an abyss he could not save himself from. His hand was slipping. His frightened phosphorescent green eyes locked onto the blue depths of who he recognized belonged to the woman he held dear. As soon as those eyes closed, he let go. He felt himself falling into the abyss, realizing with a start that the hand he had been holding was now clutching onto him with renewed strength.

“You should smile more often.” A soft feminine voice told him. He shook his head. A morose expression crossed his face before realizing he was standing in the middle of a street lit by lanterns. He looked at the dim orange light closest to him and stared at the center where the light was the brightest.

“How can you still smile?” He questioned. The lightbulb exploded as if answering with what could easily be perceived as “not”. He stared at the shards of glass angrily. He turned his gaze towards the rest of the lights in a brisk enraged manner. All at once, the lightbulbs exploded. He was cast in darkness.

“Do you know what made me laugh?” His lover asked, her blue eyes sparkling from the smile she was holding back. He shook his head.

“You did. You brought me light, Undertaker.” The Undertaker scowled in confusion before a grin curled his lips upwards.


End file.
